 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
THE SONG OF PEACE
“The battle ceased along the plain, for the bards had sung the song of peace.”
Ossian
O, joy was in the well-known strain,
Poured from that minstrel throng,
As o'er the corse-encumbered plain,
Their high and holy song
Poured from that minstrel throng,
As o'er the corse-encumbered plain,
Their high and holy song
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Came, on the rushing breezes borne,
The messenger of peace,
To still the din of the battle horn,
And bid the carnage cease.
The messenger of peace,
To still the din of the battle horn,
And bid the carnage cease.
Hushed was the strife, controlled
By that peace-proclaiming strain,
The parted waves of the battle rolled
From off the reeking plain.
By that peace-proclaiming strain,
The parted waves of the battle rolled
From off the reeking plain.
O, potent was the sound,
That called the warrior back
From the strength of his hard-gained ground,
And the routed foemen's track.
That called the warrior back
From the strength of his hard-gained ground,
And the routed foemen's track.
O, soothing to the ear
Of the wounded, crushed and low,
Were the tones that stayed the lifted spear,
And the fiercely falling blow.
Of the wounded, crushed and low,
Were the tones that stayed the lifted spear,
And the fiercely falling blow.
Ye bards, whose visions swell
The glories of our age,
Say, have your mighty lays no spell
To calm the warrior's rage?
The glories of our age,
Say, have your mighty lays no spell
To calm the warrior's rage?
No! 'tis not this you seek—
No meed for this you claim!
'Tis yours, in glowing terms to speak
Of the warrior's deathless name.
No meed for this you claim!
'Tis yours, in glowing terms to speak
Of the warrior's deathless name.
Ye tell of the fame that falls
Around the mighty dead,
Who, following glory's trumpet-calls,
In the throng of strife hath bled.
Around the mighty dead,
Who, following glory's trumpet-calls,
In the throng of strife hath bled.
Heaven-hallowed peace! to thee,
A bard to fame unknown,
Would dedicate his minstrelsy,
And thy sweet influence own.
A bard to fame unknown,
Would dedicate his minstrelsy,
And thy sweet influence own.
And O! had he the power of song
Which loftier spirits feel,
The joys that to thy sway belong,
His visions should reveal.
Which loftier spirits feel,
The joys that to thy sway belong,
His visions should reveal.
Haverhill Gazette, February 24, 1827
| [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet | |